


It Began with the Moon and the Wolf-Man was Born

by My_Black_Crimson_Rose6



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: After Alpha Pack, Alpha! Scott, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Stiles, Blood, Character Death, Claiming, Dark Magic, Denial, Erica's still dead, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Heavy on the feels in first Chapter, Hey look Jackson's in this now, Jackson's still in London, M/M, Magic, Mates, Mentions of Skyrim, Necromancy, Skype, Spark, Stiles wears leather, Summoning, Swearing, The Hale Pack - Freeform, The first chapter may just kill you, Werewolf Afterlife, brief passing mention of season 3's relationship between Derek and Jennifer, dealing with grief, magic! stiles, will have to keep adding tags as I think of them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-15 21:03:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6/pseuds/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was something wrong. </p><p>And Stiles knew that it was bigger than Beacon Hills. Bigger than the Hale Pack murder. Bigger than his own problems. Stiles knew this, he knew that he had to do whatever he could to solve this. He owed Derek that much, and as pissed as he would be, Stiles wasn't just going to let this go. And he certainly wasn't going to drag the pack of werewolves nipping at his heels into this mess. </p><p>So when a woman comes to Beacon Hills claiming that she knew the Hale Siblings from New York. Stiles had to trust her word. Plus, she knew magic. And as much as Deaton was willing to teach him to use this gift, this woman could teach him the things that he wanted to learn. Needed to learn. </p><p>He was going to kill those son of a bitches, even if he died trying. </p><p>He owed Derek that much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Every Beginning Feels Like the End

**Author's Note:**

> Summary for Chapter:
> 
> His pack died. 
> 
> And a part of him died with it.
> 
>  
> 
> NOTES:: BAMF Stiles is mostly tagged for later chapters.
> 
> Meanings:
> 
> 1- Hunting Grounds  
> 2- The One Wolf

****

_Derek smiled against the teenager’s temple, “don’t laugh at me,” the teenager shook harder as he tried to suppress his laughter. His lips, stretched into a wide grin, and teeth pressed against Derek’s collarbone with his arms wrapped tightly around the man._

_“Don’t tell me what to do, I’m my own damn,” Stiles snorted, “I’m my own damn woman and I will laugh at your choice in movies if I want to!” He snickered between clenched teeth, his eyes starting to tear up. It felt good to be able to laugh with him, even if it was something stupid like a Disney movie that Derek absolutely loved. After the alpha pack, and the constant after effects from the whole endeavor, it felt good to just kick back with Derek and just sit down. Let alone try to make something happen with this blossoming relationship._

_“Since when?” Derek chuckled into the teen’s hair line as he pulled him into his lap. He wanted to wrap as much of himself around the teen as he could. And he could. There was nothing stopping him. No monster showing up and maiming and destroying things, no pack mates to hide from, no Uncle Peter to growl at. It was finally just the two of them watching a movie of a little alien finding his home with a bunch of humans. “I think we would have had this discussion a while ago. Plus, you still smell like a guy,” he mumbled kissing a few freckles down his cheek, following a trail only he knew about to the teen’s lips._

_Stiles couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “I didn’t mean it literally"groaned, eyes closing and pressing in closer to the alpha. Fuck they haven’t been able to do this for a while. Felt amazing to finally just to be able to kiss each other. Hell, Stiles would be perfectly content with just taking a damn nap, as long as it was just the two of them._

-

_Another monster down, score now something like 20-1 them. Wait no, 20-2, because the Camaro was a beauty and that stung a little. Even though Derek was in the process of getting it fixed, “It was Laura’s. It’s one of the last things I have of her, and I’m going to do whatever I can in getting that car fixed up Stiles. I don’t care how much it fucking costs.” Yeah, when he said that no one else said a peep about it (only to ask of course how the repairs were going—which it was going by very nicely)._

_It was another rare moment of peace between the couple. With arms submerged to the elbow in soaping water, Derek dunked the plate in the water before handing it off to Stiles. “We’ve discussed this, Stiles. No sex until you’re eighteen. Just because your Dad is… accepting… of your choice of being with me. Doesn’t mean that he won’t arrest me when he finds out that we’re fucking before you’re legal.”_

_Stiles shoved the now dried plate into the cupboard before holding his hand out for the pan that came next, “don’t be like that Sourwolf, he won’t arrest you… well he won’t arrest you for this at least.” Derek stared at him, his eyebrows raised slightly. You’re so full of shit. I don’t believe you. “Derek make your eyebrows stop talking. I will tell them to shut up. I’ll wax them. I will, don’t fucking tempt me,” Stiles grimaced at the objects of his discontent._

_Derek huffed, “and what are they saying?”_

_“That I’m full of shit.”_

_The alpha chuckled, “you are. And your father will most likely shoot me if he doesn’t arrest me. We’ve had this discussion—“_

_Stiles dropped the towel to the counter and rounded on his boyfriend, yes boyfriend with a nice little back shiver and everything. “My Dad threated to shoot you?! When did he do this?” he shouted grabbing handfuls of Derek’s blue shirt._

_The man shrugged, “a few months ago.”_

_“What did he threaten to shoot?” they started at each other, before Stiles glanced down at the man’s crotch before raising his eyebrows and staring at his boyfriend. “Okay. Okay, we can wait till my birthday. It’s in like… two months anyways!”_

-

Something killed Peter Hale.

Something tore out his throat, and tore open his chest and his insides were scattered around the parking lot. Blood was everywhere; his eyes open and face completely human. So shocked.  Like the thing that killed him either snuck up on him, which most likely didn’t happen because he was a fucking werewolf and you can’t sneak up on one unless the one doing the sneaking knew how werewolves worked. Or. Or Peter knew his killer.

His killer.

A guy who killed his own niece and nearly killed his nephew was murdered in a parking lot. And Derek was freaking out. Stiles hadn’t seen him shut down like this in the longest time, even with the pack (that still didn’t know that they were dating—or just didn’t care). Derek had done everything in his wolfie powers to find out what happened, or what did this. But every werewolf came to the same conclusion.

There was no smell. No prints left in the blood.

Nothing but Peter.

Derek stared at his little sister. The Hale siblings shared a look before returning their gaze down to their uncle. They needed to leave before the police showed up. The sirens were approaching. The pack had to literally drag them away from the scene, and back to Derek’s loft.

Cora’s shoulder shook, the grief of losing yet another family member sitting heavily on her shoulders. As much as she hated him for killing her older sister, he was still her uncle. Somewhere deep in him was the same old Uncle Peter that would make them all Sunday breakfast and taught them how to cook. The same Uncle Peter that would banter with his mate at the kitchen table and had rocked her back and worth when she came home after she kissed her first boy and he made fun of her and rubbed dirt on her clothes.

She curled into her brother, burying her head under his jaw when her body started to shake violently and sobs racked her body. “I hated him so much, Der, I hated him for what he did to Laura,” she hissed out between sobs, “but then I remember how Uncle Peter scared the shit out of Paul when I was five and I kissed him.” She wrapped an arm around his neck and squeezed.

Derek buried his nose into her brown hair, breathing in the scent of family. His last family member.  He felt the wolf rise to the surface, wanting to kill whatever killed his family member, a member of his pack, and made his sister cry. He was going to kill it. And he was going to enjoy doing it when he gets his claws into the fucker. “I’ve got you,” he choked, remembering when he had to say those very things to Laura.

To her remains as he buried her that day beside their childhood home.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he added clutching his sister his arms holding her tightly against him. “I’ve got you.” He smelt Stiles before he felt him as the teen wrapped an arm around the two remaining Hales. Isaac sat by Cora’s knees, where she half climbed into her brother’s lap, the blonde’s arms wrapping around her waist. His thumb brushing against the skin that road up in her position and rested his head against her lap.

“I want to howl for him,” she choked out between sobs.

-

The Hale siblings howled for hours deep in the preserve. On Hale property, near the old house. It felt proper to do it there over any other place. The rest of the pack was there. Stiles, Scott, Boyd, Isaac, Allison and Lydia.

They all showed up with them, but they all left before the sun came up.

All but Stiles, who stayed with the siblings while they mourned.

He howled with them until his throat went raw and he could no longer speak. He howled for a man he never actually knew, but to show his respect and his understanding for those that grieved for a loved one. Even if that loved one had died years before this and all that remained of him was a shell of hate and a duty for family.

“You didn’t have to stay.”

Stiles blinked and shook his head lightly.

**Yes I did.**

-

Derek found her in the woods by the old house a week after Peter’s death. She was only gone for two hours. _Two fucking hours_.

The rest of his pack was in school, and Cora said that she was going to go for a run quickly before the pack all came over for dinner. She wanted them to bond more, even more so after Peter’s death. She wanted to have a family again, a big pack filled and bursting with happiness. Just like what their family was before the fire. They were going to watch movies and order in and just do nothing of importance other than argue over what movie they should watch next and what they were going to order.

Her and Isaac just went on their second date last night!

He spent hours just listening to her gush about his beta and how he kissed her and she saw fireworks. He spent hours watching her smile grow wider and wider and watched her forget about Peter and focus on Isaac and how _perfect_ his hair curled, and how _adorable_ his eyes were.

Derek threw his head back and felt the shift take over, his clothes ripping as he changed into his alpha form. For the first time. The alpha’s larger lungs took in a breath and his muzzle opened, full of sharp teeth dripping with saliva as he **howled**. The windows on the house shook. The animals in the preserve stopped their noise, took off as far as they could, their hearts beating wildly in their chests. The dogs in the neighbourhoods howled with him, the humans in town stopped what they were doing.

All his anger, all his pain, the loneliness, the _nothingness that he felt_. Everything that he had went into that howl. He whined deep in his throat when he closed his mouth. His form shifting from the alpha form to complete wolf. Cora loved this form.

When they were kids she would always force him to shift into it, neither Laura nor their parents could shift into a wolf. Only Aunt Liz, himself, Peter’s mate, Derek’s younger brother, Grandma Hale, and Uncle Jay could do it. Cora would just bat her eyes at him and he would give in. Letting her snuggle against his side as she told him about what happened at school. The boys that she liked, but never had the confidence in talking to. She would tell him all the gossip she heard around town. How she wished she was a werewolf sometimes.

She would tell him her hopes and dreams. Her plans, her more realistic dreams. She told him her secretes. With her face buried in the fur over the back of his neck and her fingers brushing through the fur on his shoulders and playing with his ears. Some days they would curl up in the house, the would build a nest of blankets and pillows in the living room, she would force him to shift into the wolf form and would just use him as a giant pillow as they napped.

Some days Laura and his youngest brother Greg would be curled up with them. And the rare times even his brother Tom would have his back pressed against one of them. Dozing away.

Derek whined again, nudging his little sister’s face. Her dead eyes staring back at him. Her body torn nearly in half. No, nearly cut in half. Right under her ribs it looked like the thing dragged their claws in two paths. Digging deep through bones and flesh and organs and only stopped when they nearly reached the other side.

Cora’s hair covered most of her face, but he could still see her once beautifully alive eyes staring out through brown locks of hair. She got it from their Dad. Her and Greg looked more like their father, while Derek and Laura looked a lot like their mother. Tom looked a lot like Uncle Peter, their Dad’s brother.

He whined again, this time nudging her shoulder. Licking her exposed shoulder. Wake up. He let out another whine and a small bark out before nudge her again this time with the flat of his head against hers. Wake up. He quickly curled up by her head, wrestling with her body to get her head leaning against his neck.

Come on. He whined, this one longer than the others. Tell me about Isaac and your date. Tell me about the movies you bought just for tonight. I’ll let to choose the food. Derek whined, and whined and whined before tilting his head back and letting out a howl. A much quieter one then the one before.

And in moments the Jeep pulled up through the forest. Derek heard the door being thrown open and the owner of the Jeep come tumbling out, running towards Derek. The teenager stopped, his eyes wide, “Cora,” his voice cracked before he took ran the rest of the way to her side. Derek moved slowly, setting his sister’s head on the forest floor, letting out a whine to the human. His eyes pleading as he stood, moving to the human’s side. He took the human’s arm gentling in his mouth and placed it near her wounds.

He whined again, head-butting the teenager. Heal her. Save her. Do something. His eyes pleaded as he let another long whine out before nudging his sister gently with his nose. “Derek,” Stiles whispered looking up from Cora to his boyfriend. The wolf whined again, this time moving to brush his head against hers. Pushing her hair from her face as best as he could. He glanced back at Stiles and whined again. “Derek I can’t do anything, I don’t know what I can do to help you.”

He nudged the human’s arm. Fix her. You’re magic. You can do it. Heal her. Fix her. He whined again, but Stiles just shook his head, “I can’t do anything to help her.” Derek threw his head back and howled again.

The betas and a car broke through the tree line, and Isaac launched himself from the car. “Cora! CORA!” he shouted bolting towards them. Derek growled out a warning, but Isaac kept running towards them. Derek flatted his ears against his head as his bones cracking and his form turned to the alpha. He stood hunched slightly and roared his muzzle full on long pointed teeth barred and snarling. And Isaac finally stopped his eyes frantic as he took in the completely shifted alpha.

“Derek, its Isaac. It’s just Isaac,” Stiles whispered from behind the alpha. Derek glanced over his shoulder, snapping out of his daze. He dropped down to all fours before his body shifted back into wolf. Both he and Isaac rushed to Cora’s body. Derek let out another whine and curled himself around his sister’s head. His tail curling over her neck and his nose buried under her shoulder.

Isaac dropped to the ground, his hands hovering in the air above her. Not knowing what to do, and how this could possibly be real. He just _saw_ her last night. He finally _kissed_ her last night. He liked this girl. His wolf whined, and he choked on a sob.

The rest of the pack was standing just out of reach now. Boyd kneeling down by Stiles’ side and taking Cora’s hand. Much like how she did with him back in the vault those years ago when the pack lost Erica. When he lost Erica.

-

_The howl shook to his very core. It was loud, louder than the time Scott howled into the school’s PA system. Stiles shot up and out of his seat before the werewolves even turned towards the windows. He was out of the class within seconds after that, making sure to grab his phone and he knew he had his car keys in his pocket. He left everything else on his desk, Mr. Harris yelling at him even as he took to the halls. He didn’t stop running until he reached the Jeep, and even then he rushed._

_He would thank the Jeep later for choosing this time was the appropriate time to start, and he floored it out of the parking lot just as Isaac ran out of the school with Scott and Boyd at his heals._

_There was something wrong with that howl. It sounded almost feral—sad more than anything though. Painful. Something happened. Something bad. And with each glance at his speed, and each second that passed, he hoped that he would be able to make it there in time._

-

**April 8 th**

That morning Stiles woke up eighteen.

He didn’t feel any different and when he would look back on this day, he completely forgot that today was his birthday. The only person that he really wanted to spend it with was in mourning over the murder of his last family member. Truly the last now, unless somehow another Hale from the fire survived and showed themselves.

But that wasn’t going to happen. He knew it, Derek knew it, the rest of the pack knew it.

Isaac had turned back to the kid before the bite, a scared little boy with big eyes and who would jump at any sudden noise.

School was horrible for them all. After Cora’s murder, the constant question hung over their heads. _Who’s next?_ The others were worried about each other, but Stiles knew that whatever this was… whatever it was was only targeting the Hale family. And that name only had one last member to it.

His father and he were supposed to go to a dinner and just have some father, son time after all the shifts that he was working. And Stiles was hopping that he could stop by Derek’s a invite him along, at least to settle his fears that the killer wouldn’t get him while the Stilinkski’s were with him. After all, Peter and Cora were both by themselves when they were torn apart.

Alone just like how Derek currently was right now. Doing who knows what. And God knows where.

When the last few minutes of school ticked away and the bell finally rang, Stiles took to the parking lot after depositing all his school stuff. Hell, he just stuffed his whole bag in his locker and went “fuck it, no homework tonight.” The only thing he kept with him was his keys and wallet. Which didn’t leave his pockets.

His Dad was waiting for him in front of school in the Jeep, and Stiles couldn’t help but throw his Dad a grin when he slinked into the seat. “Can we add another person tonight?” Stiles asked, scratching the back of his neck.

“Sure, it’s your day. Just tell me where to go to pick this person up,” John replied squeezing his son’s arm briefly. Stiles quickly told his father the address before looking down at his phone. Should he text Derek first or just show up and surprise him? And like a proper officer of the law, John Stilinkski obeyed the road signs, “so who are we going to get anyways? I thought you were having all your friends over on the weekend.”

Stiles smiled at his father, “you’ll see.” He slipped out of the car when it came to a complete stop. “You can come in if you want, I’m sure he won’t mind,” Stiles added with a grin. John shrugged but got out of the Jeep and followed his son up to the loft. He kept throwing glances over her shoulder as they walked. Who did Stiles know that lived in this part of town? Actually, he may have had a name come to mind. Derek Hale.

John grimaced; Beacon Hills and Derek Hale just couldn’t seem to mix. And John wouldn’t blame the guy if he suddenly pack up everything and left town and never came back. It was all over town. The lost Hale girl showed up and within a year she was found nearly torn apart like her older sister and uncle (who died a week before her). He didn’t even want to ask how Peter Hale was surviving outside of the hospital, or that his burns were suddenly gone. But he figured it had something to do why all Stiles’ friends eyes glowed yellow, had great hearing, sense of smell, and could heal like a son of a bitch.

He knew Stiles wanted to tell him, and he could figure all this out on his own. This, Stiles’ friends and Derek included, weren’t normal and stuff was happening in Beacon Hills that John couldn’t completely wrapping his head around. But he knew his son would tell him, soon, if John’s suspicions were correct. And they were more often than not.

Stiles threw open the front door, most likely this friends’ of his, “Derek, I know you’re here, I saw the Toyota out front. And man, I will never let the fact that you chose that Soccer Mom car as your second vehicle!” Stiles grinned closing the door behind his Dad and gestured for him to follow him into the apartment.

The Sheriff paused, staring at a spot on the wall. “Stiles,” he spoke. That was blood. That was fresh, drying blood. He watched his son begin to turn before the teenager choked; the sound caused John’s stomach to clench as he followed his son’s gaze.

“Derek,” Stiles whispered his mouth hanging open as he took in the blood spattered along the floor, and walls. The teenager rushed to the side of his alpha, his hands hovering over his bleeding wounds, not sure which one is the worst and where to press down. Derek’s eyes fluttered open, his breathing laboured. “Hey big guy,” he whispered finally pressing down on one of the worst injures. Derek wasn’t healing. “Why aren’t you healing?” His eyes snapped back up to the man’s face.

“Call Scott”

Stiles shook his head, crawling up to take Derek’s head in his arms. He buried the werewolf’s nose into his neck as he supported the man’s weight. His free hand snaking down to press on one of the claw marks. He could see bones from the tears in his boyfriend’s naked chest. Whoever did this was strong enough to _cut through bone_ with their _claws_. “They killed Peter and Cora. They were behind the Argents as well, they gave them everything that they needed and Kate killed my family. It’s all linked back to them,” Derek hissed against his neck.

Stiles shook his head, “Derek, you need to focus on healing. Why aren’t you healing? You’ve dealt with worse. Peter stabbed you through the chest with his hand. Derek,” he pressed a quick kiss against the man’s temple, “c’mon, just find your anchor and heal!”

Derek shook his head weakly, “I can’t. It isn’t Kate. My anchor isn’t Kate anymore. I didn’t want to be angry all the time. Not after I found something, someone that made me feel alive again.” Stiles ground his teeth together, he knew it was coming. He knew the answer. He’s read about werewolves that were able to slowly shift their anchor from one feeling, or person, to another. It was hard, and it took a long time. Derek wouldn’t have been able to solidify the connection that soon. “I’m sorry,” the werewolf hissed out, “I’m so sorry Stiles.”

“The pack will help, they’ll help you heal,” he pleaded. He’s read accounts of Alpha’s being able to use their betas powers to help themselves. But they had to have a strong pack bond with them to do that. Derek didn’t have that. Isaac trusted Scott more so than him—they were friends. Boyd was still unsure around him. Erica’s dead. Jackson in London. Lydia and Allison were human. Scott. _Call Scott_. “Derek no. No… no, no. Derek don’t even think about it. I’ll use my magic—“

“You’ll only hurt yourself. It’s for the best this way.”

John Stilinski had called Scott like Derek had asked, unknowing to Stiles, and the paramedics. He came back into the room with towels, and covered the worst of Derek’s injures with one and pressed. Stiles let out a hiccup, and John knew his son was fighting off tears. John has seen so many horrible things in his line of work, and Derek wasn’t going to overcome these. The medics wouldn’t arrive in time, but he couldn’t just take Stiles away and let him die alone. Derek coughed, blood dripping from his mouth and down his chin.

He wasn’t going to make it.

The door slid open and the rest of Stiles’ ragtag group came stumbling in. John stood, moving away from Derek so the group could file in. He’s already watched the love of his life die while he could do nothing about it. He couldn’t watch while his son experienced the same thing. Not again.

Derek let out a growl; it was more of a rumble than anything else, regarding the two betas that he turned. “Scott,” he began, wincing when he felt Stiles being taken away from him. It needed to be done. It was already close enough; he was cutting this too close. He couldn’t leave his pack without an alpha, and as much as he didn’t really want it to be Scott—he wasn’t ready yet. He had no choice. There was nothing left for him to do other than to stare up at the beta as he leaned his head back against the wall that Isaac had leaned him against when Boyd and he held back Stiles.

They weren’t even able to tell the pack.

Weren’t even able to have sex.

And he did. Holy hell, did Derek ever want to have sex with that smartass. He wanted to worship him, love him. Show him just how good he was, and how he deserved so much, and Derek wanted to give him everything. Anything. Everything.

But he wouldn’t be able to.

He closed his eyes, “do it Scott. Become the alpha. The pack’s yours.” Scott was hesitant, of course he was, he was Scott. The kid couldn’t just take one for the team. Had to play the hero and save everyone. But he was passed the point that he could be saved. He was dead the moment those three showed up in his loft. He couldn’t blame Scott for his hesitation, he was born human and he still didn’t know that full meaning of pack.

He couldn’t. Scott didn’t want to be pack. And Derek could only go so far to show them all what it means. It’s a family. But not every pack thought that way. Not every alpha would allow one of their betas to return to them after leaving the pack. It showed that Derek was weak, at least in the other alphas point of view. But Derek chose the three of them for a reason. And not just because he needed their power. Knew that they would say yes. No, he saw the potential that they had in their lives and the bite had triggered them finally realizing that.

But he need Scott to do this, not for him. He wouldn’t be around after this. But for Isaac and Boyd.

Even Stiles.

Fucking Stiles.

He could hear Stiles fighting against Isaac and Boyd; he could hear the Sheriff’s heart beat skyrocket when he heard it. Only Stiles’ heart skipped as he cried out. “Don’t you fucking dare Scott. I won’t fucking forgive you if you do. Don’t you dare!” He could hear his… no, they were Scott’s now… he could hear the betas grunt at the sudden change it tactics as Stiles threw his weight back against Boyd and tried to kick Isaac. “Scott, please. Please don’t.”

“Derek,” Scott whispered, his nails turning sharp. The wolf in him howled under his skin, it knew what it had to do. What the alpha was asking him to do. Both Scott and his wolf knew, he’s seen too much blood since he’s been turned and the fact that Derek wasn’t healing proved that he wasn’t going to make it another hour.

He was lucky he made it as long as he did right now.

Derek pulled his lips back in a silent snarl, his eyes still closed. “Do it,” he hissed barring his teeth, he opened his eyes and could feel his eyes flash red. _Take care of them._

Then the tearing feeling that Derek knew so well came as Scott’s claws tore through his throat and he choked. Blood pouring out of his mouth. The last thing he saw was his _mate_ go limp in the arms of Boyd and Isaac. A cry of his name on the teenager’s lips.

He couldn’t help but give him a small smile before everything just faded to nothing. Nothing but the image of Stiles’ now silent screams as he tried to free himself with renewed incentive. Then even that too faded to nothing.

And in the next moment Derek woke up surrounded by forest with Laura staring down at him with her hands on her hips. “You better not be dead Derek Hale,” she said, her eyes flashing red.

-

_He had just stepped out of the shower and slipped on a pair of jeans before leaving the bathroom, he plugged his phone into his charger by the TV when a smell hit him. It smelt like Cora, Peter and blood. And under all that was a faint smell of magic. His head snapped up, zoning in on the scent. It came from three male figures._

_Standing in the middle of his fucking living room._

_Derek growled, “You killed my sister and my uncle.”_

_The three figures were werewolves. Their features in beta forms, “we do what summons are meant to do. We’re only puppets really, Hale, if it was up to us we’d still be in the Λόγοι Κυνήγι (1). Not playing guard dogs for some stupid witches.” One of the werewolves lunged at him, catching him off guard as they spoke about what the witch that summoned them was behind._

_“They’re killing The Old Bloods, trying to open Λόγοι Κυνήγι and let ο ένας λύκος (2) out of his chains. They’re killing whole families. The Hale’s, Lundgren’s, Morgenstern’s… they’re out to kill them all. All trace of pure werewolf blood—“_

_Derek couldn’t focus on both the fighting and this knowledge. But from what he gathered it wasn’t just the Agents behind his family’s murder, but something to do with a stupid legend. It made no sense—it was just a legend. All werewolves grew up with the stupid lore of the First Litter. But to kill whole packs just because they have a long line of born werewolves?_

_That’s fucking ridiculous._

_But he still let his guard down to these threats. Even for those few seconds, the closest wolf dug his claws in deep and broke bones as he tried to tear out his lung. Derek roared, eyes bleeding red as he threw the werewolf from him and into another._

-

Boyd and Isaac gently placed the human back on the ground. The group watched in silence as Stiles curled around Derek’s body, tears flowing down his cheeks. He wrapped his arm around the back of Derek’s head, pulling it down to the last place it ever touched on him. He buried the man’s nose into his neck before placing a kiss on his forehead. “You promised, Der,” he sniffled resting his wet cheek against the man’s forehead.

He could feel the limpness in the man’s body as it rocked with him. He just couldn’t stop rocking.

He remembered that one time that Derek was with him when he beginning to have a panic attack. It had hit him suddenly. The alpha pack was dead, and with it brought a new monster every week. Every supernatural created most likely thought that the territory was weak, up for grabs even. That most of the pack was either too weak after the defeat or all dead and the alpha pack just got bored and moved on.

After all, they made sure that all the bodies were taken care of with the utmost secrecy. Only Derek and he actually knew where they hid them. And now Stiles was the only one that knew.

He could feel the tears slip passed closed lids, his breath catching in his throat with ever few gulps of air. He was rocking then too, with Derek curled behind him. His hand spread out over his chest, over his heart, as he ground him. Making small sounds, a whispered conversation about the random animals running through the woods the day before as he ran after them. His voice helping him focus outside of the future, out of the thoughts of _what if_ and into territory that was calming. And Derek just held him through it, rocked gently with him as he fought to steady his breath and calm his heart.

Now it was just Stiles. Just Stiles with Derek in his arms.

Not breathing.

Dead.

His shoulders shook and he took in a gulp of air, but the wail didn’t come. His heart tore as he pressed their noses together. He didn’t have it in him to hope. Not after all this. Not after watching the light fade from Derek’s eyes, and that little smile that briefly graced his features. He couldn’t open his eyes, not without finding Derek’s. Not without seeing for a fact that the life, the fight, was taken out of his hazel eyes.

Not after seeing them two days ago looking at him with tears left unshed. Looking at him like he hung the moon. That he was the most important person to Derek. He couldn’t look at them after seeing the red bleed from his eyes, as he watched them become on focused. He died looking at him, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at them. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

“We need to separate them.”

Stiles curled his arms tighter around the man, his body shaking. His head moving in the negative. _Don’t you fucking dare_. He wouldn’t be taken from him. He couldn’t. He still had some much that he wanted to say. So much that he needed to do.

He’s kissed the man often enough it different positions to know where his lips were. He wanted to kiss him, just one last time, where one half hoped that he would kiss back and the other half not wanting to because he knew that he wouldn’t.

He placed a kiss on the corner where Derek’s lips met his cheek.

“I love you,” he breathed out, finally saying the words that he’s always wanted to tell Derek, but it was too late now. He wouldn’t get to see Derek’s eyes sparkle, or see the creases around his eyes when he smiled. Or hear the sound of relief escape from his mouth that sounded a bit like a laugh.

All that greeted him when he opened his eyes was dead eyes, and the taste of blood on his lips from the kiss.

And the feeling of his heart breaking along with the dam that he built against the last few years.  

-

_The phone was on the other side of the room when the first call came in. Derek hissed between clenched teeth as he dragged himself to the closest wall. He was leaving a trail of blood on his floor, and it was going to kill Stiles when he saw him. When he saw the scene. Either by himself or because of his father._

_Derek hoped that it would be because he went looking through his father’s stuff._

_He actually hoped that he wouldn’t have to see any of this._

_Not the blood spray, or the puddles of blood, or the drag marks. Let alone him. Derek didn’t want him to see how they left him. He didn’t want Stiles seeing him. That would kill him. That would finally break him, and Derek knew it. He knew Stiles was waiting for the worst to finally hit._

_After Erica, after Peter (as much as Stiles and the rest hated him, it still affected him, it was still a member of the pack dead. With no leads, until now), then Cora. Stiles was emotionally wrecked by the death just like Boyd, Isaac, and himself. Stiles cared about the pack… in his own sarcastic, energetic, idiotic way. He wouldn’t care as much as he did when he had to miss the pack bonding activities if he didn’t care._

_He was leaning against the wall, hands pressed against a few of his injures in an attempt to stop or at least slow the bleeding when the second phone call came in._

_Then the third a few minutes later._

-

The paramedics were the ones that pulled the two apart after no one else moved to help them.

-

And Stiles only started to scream and fight when they were able to disconnect the two. And that was when the pack stepped in, their own shock finally breaking to take Stiles away. Boyd returned to bare most of Stiles’ weight as he thrashed, kicked and tried to claw his way out and back to Derek’s side. Scott stepped in to help only to be met with a snarl and Stiles’ barring his teeth at his best friend, still trying to wiggle his way out of the beta’s hold.

Isaac had to take the place Scott was about to grab, taking the teen’s legs and the pair lifted him from the apartment.

From the blood…

From the death….

From Derek.

Stiles had just snarled at his best friend, and he didn’t care. He didn’t care that he pushed his best friend, his only friend for the longest time, away.

The Sheriff was waiting just outside the door, taking his son into his arms as soon as the werewolves stepped through the door. “I’ve got you Stiles,” he held his son tight against him tucking his head under his chin. “Let it all out.”

All the fight that Stiles had died, and he finally felt the whole in his chest. In his person. Completely nothing and that scared him. It scared him knowing that it was because of Derek, that he was still sane. That he was still able to function. In the fact that he let someone get in so deep and to be taken away when he finally realized just how important he was.

He felt the scream, the wail, and the sobs but never heard them. He felt his body shake and felt his heart beating wildly in his chest. He could feel every breath that he took turn to shutters and choked out words.

He couldn’t hear anything.

Only the sound of waves washing on the sand.

And it made his heart jump up to his throat and stomach clench in memory.

_“Dude, I’m not getting in there. Water’s freezing!” Stiles exclaimed with a laugh as he watched Derek turn to regard him with a blank stare. The water up to his waist._

_“It’s either you come in on your own, or I drag you in,” Derek’s lips broke out in a smirk before slowly making his way back to shore._

_“FINE! Fine, I’ll come in. Just don’t rush me!”_

He pushed himself away from his father and threw up.

-

Scott had waited a few days before seeking Stiles out at the Stilinski house. The Sheriff had let him in with a frown and a “He’s upstairs” before leaving for work. Scott wasn’t sure if he should bring anything up. But he went to the kitchen a grabbed a bottle of water just in case before taking to the stairs.

He found Stiles hunched over a book, really old by the smell of it, with a Derek’s leather jacket over his shoulders. “Hey man,” Scott winced, even that sounded lame to his ears. “We’ve been worried about you; the pack hasn’t seen or spoke to you since… y’know.” Another wince, good job Scott, he thought as he placed the bottle on his friend’s nightstand before joining him on the bed.

“My pack died with the Alpha,” muttered Stiles darkly, his eyes never leaving the page. He sighed in frustration before flipping to the next one, eyes scanning for the spells that he needed—the bonding ceremony that he needed.

Something called a Summon, and that’s all he knew.

Deaton wouldn’t tell him anything, saying that he wasn’t ready for it. And even when he was, he wouldn’t be able to bind the soul that he wanted to him. Stiles didn’t want to believe him. He couldn’t. Deaton was _fucking lying._ “Stiles,” Scott began a growl escaping. The wolf in him fought to rise to the surface, to force him to submit. To join or die.

And it was starting to make sense why Derek wanted him to join his pack so much.

The wolf was going insane.

That finally made Stiles glanced up from the book, his eyes filled with a purpose not completely known to him yet, while his face held nothing. “You’re my best friend Scott, and at the end of the day I love you, man. But right now I kinda hate you. And no matter how much I care about you, and how the rest of Derek’s pack is doing alright with the new change in leadership, I’m not. You may have not liked the guy, or even respected him. But he was my Alpha, and he will always be my Alpha. Just because his powers are passed to you, doesn’t mean that you’re him.” Stiles shook his head, that’s the most he’s spoken in since his birthday. He didn’t really hit him until that night when he saw the calendar with the date circled in with thick red lines.

The human returned to his book.

His pack died.

And a part of him died with it.

-

**“Hey Sourwolf! It’s me. I know that life sucks right now. And I’m surprised that you’re actually making plans to come see me tonight. I mean, you normally just climb up all through my window. Luckily no snatching of my people are being done though, right? I know, sorry. I just got really bored in one of my classes today, and ended up making a trip down YouTube memory lane. Anyways! Oh shit, teacher’s coming, call back in a bit.”**

**“Hey Mr. Grumpy Gills~ It is I again. I kinda wanted to ask you to join my Dad and I for dinner. I kinda want the two of you to meet that doesn’t involve handcuffs, guns and/or mug shots. It’s kinda important to me, so I hope you agree. So yeah, text me back.”**

**“I love you. I keep wanting to say it to you, but you always make this happy content face as if you know that I do that I kind of just zone out and just get drawn in. I love you, Derek Hale. You’re an asshole, by the way, at least some of the times. And your eyebrows are too expressive, I wish mine could do some of the shit that yours does. But I love you, and your my jerk with really fucking expressive eyebrows. Oh yeah, even if you say no you’re coming anyways. This meet the parent dinner is going to happen. I’ll see you in about a half an hour.”**


	2. I'll Prove You Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People needed to stop telling him that he couldn't do it. He was going to. He was- there's no question that he was going to. Just the question of "at what time?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs mentioned:
> 
> Radioactive- Imagine Dragons  
> Hear You Me- Jimmy Eat World
> 
> I feel like I'm forgetting something... what am I forgetting?

****

The police found nothing. Nothing but Derek at the scene. It’s been a week since his death, a week where Stiles spent reading books that he had, looking for something that could bring him back. And all he found was a paragraph mentioning summoning. Not how to do it, or what was required. It was as if the author wrote “summoning, it’s a thing” and peaced out.

Still, this was a start. More than what he knew before—this was good. This held promise.

It didn’t hold very much promise, but it was a start.

From the one book that he read it, summoning sounded like having a familiar, but instead of the familiar finding you and tying themselves to you, the living would tie themselves to the dead. Or so it seemed.

Stiles needed a teacher; he needed more knowledge on this. He needed to bring Derek back—if he couldn’t do it like Lydia did for Peter, then he was going to tie his soul to him and have him with him that way. He already went to Deaton, and Deaton told him to come back after he had time to collect his thoughts. Fuck that, he didn’t need to collect his thoughts!

He wanted Derek back, or that bastards heads’ who killed him on a silver fucking platter.

It was during these times that Stiles started to understand how Peter felt. How angry Derek must have been, and how horrible he would feel. Stiles was never going to get over his mother’s death, but he was able to continue living it. As horrible as that sounded. She wouldn’t have wanted him to cripple himself over this, over her passing. She had told him enough times that he needed to take care of himself and his father when the day came that she wouldn’t be able to. And that’s what kept him together, had kept him together. And he had the feeling that Derek wouldn’t want that of him either, to lose himself—but this wasn’t a slow death like his mother’s. He didn’t have to sit by Derek’s bedside and listen to him say his good-byes, even if they never seemed like it until after death. Stiles wasn’t ready for this, just like how he wasn’t ready for his mother’s.

A kid was never ready to lose a parent though, not that young.

But he never knew how much he needed Derek until the day after. He kept checking his phone, waiting for the “I’m fine. Just took a while to heal” text to come in. When it didn’t come he knew he had to snap back into reality. He hadn’t known that he used Derek, a constant in his life, as his anchor. He used the man as a wall to keep the worst of the supernatural out. All the death and the near death experience.

It was affecting him.

Of course it was fucking affecting him—he wasn’t fucking heartless!

He couldn’t take his shirt off anywhere close to a mirror. Couldn’t face looking at the scars on his body, he knew he wouldn’t be able to face the memories that blended in with them. Most of them were created while Stiles and the alpha chased after the monsters of the week.

He used to show them off proudly to Derek. To prove to him that just because he was human, he could keep up with the man and cover his back. Derek needed the pack, but he was just too stubborn to admit it—so it fell on Stiles to cover his ass. He knew better than to wait till the alpha came to him, because he wouldn’t until it was killing him. Wolfsbane bullet wounds always came to mind.

Now the scars just made bile rise up to his throat, gaging him with the smell of blood and Derek’s dead eyes.

He felt at a loss in his own skin, much like how he felt when he lost his Mom. The only time he felt like himself was when he crawled into her side of the closest and buried himself under all her clothes. He used to have to sleep in his Dad’s closest, bringing his pillow and hiding it under the mountain of clothes so his Dad wouldn’t go looking. Soon, it became normal for his Dad to wake up and poke his head, gathering his clothes for the day and seeing Stiles sleeping away buried with only his head showing. It took months for Stiles to move back to his own bed, even with him carried a few articles of her clothing with him into bed. He would even go as far as wearing his mother’s sweaters and shirts over his pjs.

But even he eventually stopped doing that. Nothing ended up smelling like her anymore. And it just ended up hurting more wearing it than not. So he cut himself off from his father’s room, until a time where all her clothes were packed away and stored in the attic. Neither Stilinski wanting to be the one that throws it out. So to this day, all his mom’s clothes were still tucked into the furthest corner of the attic. Untouched, but not forgotten.

It’s been a week since Derek’s murder.

And Stiles had nothing but loss of weight, and dark circles under his eyes to show for it. A day passed since the police took down the caution tape before Stiles gathered up his keys and drove over to the loft. He parked beside the Camaro, it seems like Derek was able to fix it before he followed his family into the afterlife. Where ever it was that werewolves went after death.

When he pulled open the door, he took in the apartment, his gaze slowly moving from one thing to the other before looking to the floor. Dried blood. He hissed through his teeth, closing the door behind him as he slowly moved further into the loft.

Call him a hopeless believer.

Call him stupid.

Call him desperate.

But he was going to bring Derek Hale back. If Lydia could do it, then he should be able to do the same. But of course, even his brain was against him as it whispered the probability of that actually happening. That he should think of a plan B.

And he did.

He was going to kill all those son of a bitches and avenge Derek.

Someone was either going to die, or someone would be brought back.

It was going to be one extreme or another. And if he had to do both, then so be it. He was kinda hoping to kill them. That dark little part of him that stopped caring when the pack would kill hunters, or spill the innards of the monster of the week. Or the little part of him as a kid that would watch, with morbid fascination, the kids that would break their bones and the bone would poke through their skin. It was the same little dark part of him that was screaming at him to kill them.

He didn’t care if he lost a bit of himself to the cause—he’s lost a bigger part of himself a week ago. On his fucking birthday. If anything, maybe this might help him find those pieces. Maybe. Most likely not. But on the lighter side, Stiles concluded, at least the things he’ll be killing weren’t human.

So he’s not jumping off the deep end like Peter. Just a little closer to the shallower end.

He walked to the kitchen, his head held high. He needed to do this. It needed to be done. Isaac wasn’t living here anymore, so he couldn’t do it. It was only Stiles. He’ll put the place back to normal; he’ll make the place feel alive. He’ll be the one to leave his scent all over the apartment so when Derek returns ( _if Derek returns_ , his brain added bitterly) he won’t be returning to ghosts.

Stiles took out a cloth, a bucket, and soap. He’ll have to do this in bits. First actually removing the blood from the floors, the next he’ll have to remove any stains. Please let there be no stains. He placed the bucket full of soapy water near the couch before picking up the remote for stereo.

Derek’s Ipod was still connected and charging in the holder. His lips twitched slightly upwards just as the first song come on. _“I’m breathing in, the chemicals…”_ he shut his eyes, breathing deeply through his mouth and out through his nose before kneeling down to begin working on the floor.

He felt like dumping the bucket on the ground and cleaning the floor like that. But even this amount of watered down blood was making his heart lurch and stomach tighten, threatening to spill his dinner from the night before.

_“I’m radioactive, radioactive.”_

No, he’ll stick to this way. This way he could stand up and walk away if it got to be too much and not worry about a wet floor.

_“It’s a revolution I suppose. We’ll paint it red to fit right in…”_

The teenager spent hours on his hands and knees, scrubbing till the smell of iron washed out. Covered by the stench of soap. Lemon scented. Derek hated that smell, saying that the cleaning solution bothered his nose. Something about it being too citrusy and over powering the other scents. Well, that’s what Stiles was trying to go for in this situation.

And he’s only puked once in those four hours of cleaning.

He’s also had to empty and re-fill his bucket about ten times now. He puked when he went to dump the first one. The red water pouring out, the faint smell of iron and the chemicals mixing in that bucket of water finally made him spill his stomach contents.

But this time, this bucket was for scrubbing the walls, the bucket was freshly changed. So that wasn’t his reason for pausing. His phone was.

“’lo?” Stiles slurred out, tucking his phone between his ear and shoulder so he could continue scrubbing. The apartment wasn’t going to finish cleaning itself. And depending on how long it’ll take him to get Derek back, the blood would just get harder to take out. And he really didn’t want to use bleach or repaint something.

“Where are you?” It was Lydia. He had to check that this was his indeed his phone, it was, before placing it back in the spot between his cheek and shoulder. In the background it sounded like she called him from the hallway at school.

Shit. That’s right, it was a school day.

“Obviously not at school,” he replied dropping the cloth back into the bucket. He moved to lean against the back of the couch, leaning over until he tipped. His feet sticking up as his head rested on the edge of the cushions.

“No shit Stiles, we both know that I’m not stupid,” she hissed. He could hear a few people talking in the background, close to her. Must be the werewolves. Stiles sighed closing his eyes; the music from Derek’s stereo playing in the background.

“My Dad called one of you, didn’t he?”

Lydia sighed, “Stiles we’re all worried about you. Some of us haven’t seen you for a week, and Scott isn’t telling us what happened between the two of you. We’re just worried, alright? We’re your friends; it’s our job to care.”

He snorted, “Cute,” he replied, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. “I’m not pack Lydia, I made sure Scott knew that when we spoke. I would have thought that he would have informed the others, but I guess that’s not the case…” he trailed off with a heavy sigh. He toed off his shoes; he cleaned all the blood off the floors, all he had left to do is the walls so it wasn’t like he had to worry about stepping in any dried blood anymore. And then of course he was planning on washing whatever else he could get his hands on. From towels, to dishes, to the whole kitchen… maybe even the living room. Dusting, sweeping… the place looked like it could use a cleaning.

“You’re pack Stiles,” Lydia sighed as if explaining a point that he should know. And he knew… he knew that even though Stiles didn’t want to be in pack, or even felt like it. Scott and the rest of them still thought of him as a member.

Stiles rolled off the couch and into a sitting position against it.

“Scott isn’t my alpha! He never will! And just because the rest of you believe that we’re all going to be happy and ride off into the sunset holding hands while pretending that nothing has changed and people died. I can’t let that go. I won’t let that go! This isn’t about what you think it’s about me and if I _want_ to be pack. And I don’t. I don’t want to be in a pack that doesn’t have Derek. Or Cora, and even creepy fucking Peter. They’re family to me, and I’m not just going to let them be forgotten!” Stiles shouted, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

The line suddenly came alive with what sounded like people taking the phone out of each other’s hands. “Stiles,” a deep voice came over the line, “I know that Derek and I were at odds for a while, before the alpha pack and during it, and I know how you’ve always had his back from that day that Scott was turned. I get that you care about him, and Derek was lucky to have that. Scott, Scott may have not been in our pack. And Derek treated him like an equal even though in our society he should’ve been killed, or chased out of town.  He respected our individualities, as much as it went against the inner alpha nature in him. Derek was a great alpha, and it’s only now that we can see that. Yes, he was headstrong, and quick to throw himself into danger.” Stiles pressed his knuckles against his teeth while the other hand clutched his phone. “He let Erica and I go, because it was what we wanted. And as much as I wish I talked Erica out of it, and that I listened to him, we didn’t. We can’t bring Erica back. We’ve looked into it; both you and Lydia looked into it. I know you’re trying to do the same with Derek, but you know that the answers are going to be the same.”

He folded his legs up, his arm wrapping around his knees as he listened to Boyd. “Scott may have never been in Derek’s pack, but Isaac and I were. We know the feeling that comes with the loss of an alpha. We lost ours too. We’ve mourned for Derek—we still are. You don’t need to do this alone Stiles, you don’t need to be alone during this. Just because you don’ want to be pack… it doesn’t mean that you need to remove yourself from us. We’re still your friends. With or without the pack bond. We’re still friends. And we’re all hurting with you Stiles. Let us help you through this—“

“I—“Stiles voice cracked, “I don’t want your help. I don’t need it. I just want to be left alone.”

He hung up when he heard his name.

He didn’t want to have their pity. He didn’t want their understanding for his _pain_.

He didn’t want that. He could deal with anger. He could deal with silence.

_“You gave us some place to go. I never said thank you for that.”_

And now this song was playing. Taunting him. Wanting him to cry.

He fucking hated this song.

Reminded him of his mom. Now, now it just reminded him of two people now.

_“Thought I’d might get one more chance.”_

It was true that he and Lydia both looked through everything they had available after the alpha pack. But Deaton hadn’t intrusted either of them with very many books. He gave them a handful at best, and nothing had anything that dealt with the kind of magic that they needed to bring Erica back. And Lydia still had no idea what Peter knew that brought him back.

Stiles could either try to pick Lydia’s brain again, but after that phone call he didn’t want to touch any of them with a twenty foot pole. You wouldn’t even be able to pay him to.

All that he could do now was go back to Deaton and convince him to allow him to borrow some of his books. Books that could actually help him. He didn’t need to know about the magical purposes that Thyme was good for. It was educational, he would have to agree, it just wasn’t helpful in his current situation.

-

When Stiles walked into the vet office the bell chimed overhead, and the two voices immediately quieted down. Deaton lead a woman around the corner, her eyes never leaving the vet’s face. “You and I both know something is going on. Why aren’t you doing anything about this? You made a pact with the Hales, and now there’s none left!” She hissed rounding on the vet when he stopped just before the gate.

“Goodbye Scarlet,” Deaton sighed holding the gate open for the woman.

“This is bigger than you think it is! This isn’t just about the Hales, or my family, or one of the Old Bloods—“

“Goodbye Scarlet,” he replied louder this time turning his attention to Stiles. The teen took the woman in, her pale face framed by dark black hair. Her posture standoffish, like a wolf’s… her lip pulled back slightly to show more teeth than normal. She was missing the wolf features… the flash of the eyes… the wolf. This woman hung around werewolves.

She huffed turning away from the vet; she paused briefly in front of Stiles. Her dark green eyes taking him in, narrowing with what seemed to be recognition. “I’m not leaving this town until I get answers, Dr. Deaton, so please do keep that in mind when the new pack starts sniffing out a magic user.” She raised her brow at Stiles, hinting at something, before leaving the building.

The teen pointed after her before staring back at the vet and pointing again between the man and the door. “What was that all about?” he inquired gesturing again between the vet and the door.

Deaton sighed, gesturing to the teen to come behind the counter, “someone I hope to never be locked in a room with. We don’t see eye to eye in our backgrounds in magic—and lets just leave it at that.” The two walked into the back. The table covered with open books and jars of things that Stiles still had no idea about. The vet corked one of the open bottles, “You’re here about Derek. I’ve told you before Stiles, I’m more than willing to help you learn magic, but the things you’re trying to do. Bringing people back from the dead, I can’t do—I won’t do that.”

The teen’s fingers traced over the spine of one of the books, playing with the uneven pages, “I’m not just wondering about that. I,” he paused tapping a finger on the book, once, twice, “when I was reading one of the books that you gave me. I came across something called Summoning. Binding a soul to yours—that’s what it does right?”

Alan stacked a bunch of books, sliding them away from Stiles and towards himself. “You won’t be able to bring Derek back, Stiles. Even with that. Not for years,” Deaton gave the teen a hard look, “the things you’re thinking about, have you gave any consideration about the people that care about you? How about those who are already dead? Derek’s finally with his family, do you really want to tear them away from him again?” Stiles opened his mouth to argue, “Don’t. Just think about it for a second. Would Derek really want you to be doing this? Or whatever you plan on doing?”

His teeth clicked together when he closed his mouth, grinding his teeth together as his breath left his body heavily through his nose. He clenched and unclenched his fingers, “I just want to borrow some more books. These ones hopefully filled with more spells than potion mixtures… please,” he sighed closing his eyes in annoyance.

If Deaton wanted him to give up on bringing Derek back, then fine. He’ll just move on to finding a way to kill all those bastards. Deaton’s brow creased with a frown. And Stiles couldn’t blame him for not believing him. He wasn’t going to give up on this—he just knew when to not push it anymore. He had to take care of part two anyways. The first part could wait until Stiles either cracked him or found out how to do it by himself.

He was going to bring Derek back.

He was.

-

She was weaving in-between the trees, twisting through the forest, leaping over fallen trees and trampling over dandelions.  She always hated them, even going as far as making one of their cousins cry after the picked her them. Thinking that they were beautiful flowers, and that their dear cousin Laura would love them. Poor kids never knew what hit them.

“When I died, Mom was the one that came to great me. I opened my eyes and there she was, hugging me. She was crying Derek. I made Mom cry… I made Dad too. I couldn’t bare it, it still bothers me. Of course it does,” his sister whispered, her voice carrying with the wind as the trampled through the forest. Animals taking off in all directions, fleeing from the wolves. “Cora was alive all that time Derek, and no matter how hard we looked we couldn’t find her. I still can’t believe that she finally came out of hiding.”

Derek and Laura joined back together, running side by side before separating again. “She didn’t exactly have any choice in the matter,” he replied dejectedly. The siblings came to a halt on the top of a cliff overseeing the valley. There was a large village in a man-made clearing, just out of the cliffs shadows, and as far as his eyes could see all Derek saw were trees.

“This is the Λόγοι Κυνήγι. This is our afterlife. And that,” she pointed to the village, “is where all the Hales, from the very first, reside. And now to the very last as well,” she frowned sighing heavily. She tilted her head back and let out a loud howl.

**It’s one of ours.**

-

Stiles found the woman in the back of the public library, tucked away in the corner with the encyclopaedias. A laptop open on the table with a stack of old book, worn and weathered, that looked similar to the ones that Deaton had buried in the depths of his magical library. He sat down across from her, intertwining his fingers on the table. “Scarlet, right?” he inquired, and he would admit that he slightly shirked when her eyes flicked up to glance at him hardly.  “Okay stupid question—I know you’re the girl that was at Deaton’s. You offered to help me—“

She chuckled, “I offered to do nothing, I merely suggested that I knew about the magic that you wish to learn. But I must warn you, the things that you want they aren’t known for being magic that the good would use.” She shut her computer and leaned over the table, “I’ll teach you about dark magic,” she whispered throwing a glance over her shoulder.

“I just want to bring Derek back,” he replied his voice cracking. He just wanted Derek back—he wanted to go to prom with him, he wanted to fall asleep on the couch with him while they watched a movie. He wanted to lose his virginity to him. He wanted to grow old with him—he wanted him to be the last thing he saw when he went to sleep, and the first thing he saw when he would wake up. He wanted to argue with the man. He wanted to teach Derek how to bake—because although Derek could cook, he had no talent in baking. Stiles just wanted to be able to tell him that he loved him.

That he loves him.

He wasn’t able to do that.

Scarlet pushed a stack of papers towards the teen, “maybe. Maybe once I figure this out you might be able to bring Derek back. But right now, all the souls of the Hale family are unable to revive. I’ve tried. It’s the same with all the other families on that paper. I’ve tried, and I’ve tried—and nothing.” She pointed to the paper that now sat in front of the teen, “whatever killed them is not allowing anyone to bring them back to life.”

Stiles flipped through the papers, not quiet reading them, “why are you so interested in the Hale family?” he questioned honey coloured eyes boring into hers.

“In New York, Laura, Derek and I shared an apartment. Rent is horribly expensive in the city. Laura was my best friend, and Derek in turn was like a brother to me. I named them the god parents to my kids. I came here hoping that I would find a live Hale, but I was too late. So whatever killed my family, and had a hand in burning the Hale house with most of the pack inside—it came back to finish Peter, Cora, and Derek.” She brought a hand to her face massaging the bridge of her nose, a growl rumbled in the back of her throat, “I’m supposed to be saving people, and so far all that I’ve been able to do is watch more names appear on sheets of paper. I know who they’re targeting. I just don’t know which family they’re going until it’s too late.”

Stiles took another look at the names, a lot of which he recognized from going through some old books that dealt with the old werewolf packs. “If you give me some time, I may just be able to figure out a pattern. Who they’re going to hit next—and maybe even why in that order,” Stiles glanced up from the papers. He closed the package and pushed it back towards her, “as long as you teach me everything I need to know.”

Scarlet smirked and shook her head, “this must’ve been the reason why Derek chose you—maybe you were the one though that chose him.” She chuckled opening up on of her books, “I’ll teach you as much as I know about my world; I’ll teach you about dark magic. But there’s some things that even I won’t touch.”

“Like what exactly?”

“I don’t touch anything that deals with anything related to Hell,” she replied. “Whatever comes out of there is just bad news. Been there, done that kind of thing and I don’t want to walk down that path again. Nor do I wish the same on anyone else.” She pushed one of the books towards him, “start by reading that. That book mostly focuses on destruction magic, a nice start towards path you wish to take.”

Stiles cracked open the book, taking a deep inhale through his nose. His nostrils filling with the smell—god he loved that smell. He couldn’t quiet place the smell though, but he loved it. They sat in silence for an hour before Stiles began reading out loud under his breath. More of a whisper. “We’ll have to kill someone before I could even try to bring Derek back,” he spoke his eyes never leaving the text in front of him. He was learning about fire spells—creating a flame, feeling the flicker of the flame in one’s belly, being able to materialize it from that feeling deep within.

All Stiles felt was a spark when he would focus.

And emptiness.

But he needed to focus on that spark—that feeling was his magic. Deaton voice would constantly supplement in his mind—he had a spark. Guess it was better than a flame, right?

“Seems so,” the woman replied clicking on a few keys on her computer. Her eyes scanning the documents. Locations, histories, pictures—so many pictures. She couldn’t click on the Wolfe folder, couldn’t. Everyone else, she could handle everyone else. Even Laura. Even Derek. Just not the Wolfe family. God that was a horribly obvious last name—but the Old Bloods didn’t exactly have to be creative. Popular last surname as well—couldn’t exactly kill a person because they had Wolf in their name, could you?

Yes, yes you could.

Stiles hummed, a small smile forming on his lips at her response.

Guess he had even more of a reason to kill those bastards now.

-

Derek felt over whelmed; he used to dream of this. Being surrounded again by family… being hugged by his Mom. He missed her scent. He missed his Alpha… both of them. His fingers clutched onto the back of his mother’s shirt as her body shook. A sob escaping her throat as she held her eldest son against her. “Derek,” she sobbed petting the back of his head. Her son clinging to her.

He felt like a kid again. A scared little boy after waking from a nightmare and crawling into bed with both his parents. “Mommy,” he whined, the words slipping out as he took another inhale of her scent. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—“

Talia Hale shushed her son, “hush Derek, we don’t blame you. I don’t blame you, put that behind you now,” she felt him nod against her cheek his arms tightening around her. “Now tell me everything, I want to know everything that’s happened. Start right from the fire.”

-

Lydia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she watched the person on the other end of the computer. The blonde’s features were bruised and healing slowly—alpha wound. Had to be from an alpha. “Who went after your face?” she hissed her fingers tapping against her leg. She sat with her computer on her lap as she relaxed against propped up pillows on her king size bed.

The blonde glared, “we’ve had this discussion before,” the teen replied running his hands over his face in annoyance. “I’ve told you that this alpha is nothing like what we’re used to,” he dropped his hands from his face, the bruises faded slightly more as he spoke. “I wish I could just gut that fucker. This is degrading—I’m being treated like—“

Lydia rolled her eyes, “yes, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear Jackson—you praising Derek and how he didn’t act like a typical Alpha. Can we go a week without you bringing that up?” she raised an eyebrow in question. “Seeing that he’s dead, I really don’t want to bring myself to remember anything. I’m happy with sticking with anger, thanks.”

Jackson’s mouth dropped, his lips moving to say something before he closed them again. His eyes flashing to their beta blue, the blonde blinked quickly and covered his mouth. “Who—How?” His eyes glowing, “What the hell happened?” he shouted suddenly his hand slapping down on his desk right by the computer.

Lydia jumped, “Jesus Christ,” she replied her hand clutching her chest. “We aren’t sure—they’re the same people who killed Peter and Cora. Scott had to become the alpha. Stiles is freaking out—actually, we’re all freaking out. We’re all just hurting, and we don’t really know what to do. We’re just a bunch of teenagers that hoped that Derek wouldn’t die!” Lydia exclaimed running a hand through her hair, pushing the strawberry blonde locks from her face.

“Scott shouldn’t be the alpha—he’s not ready for it, he might never have been ready for it. Yeah, the pack trusts him, they care about him and he protects him. But he’s incapable to make the tough choices—the ones that someone actually has to die for,” Jackson pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t have time to focus on this—on Derek.

Jackson had fought against becoming one of Derek’s betas. Even overseas, the connection between the alpha and the beta had been strong. The wolf in Jackson wasn’t happy to be away from his pack, to join another one—to submit to an alpha that he didn’t view as his own. Derek had checked up on him, made sure he was dealing with the changes—Jackson could see that every conversation that they had angered him.

He got it.

He finally understood it. Understood why Derek did it, why Derek’s pack and the one that he was in now were so different. This alpha may have family in this pack, and treated his blood like family, but everyone else was nothing. A source of stability—of power. Derek had treated his pack like a family, and because of that they walked over him.

When Erica and Boyd left—even when Jackson fought against him, Derek had every right to kill them, or to force them into a position of submission. Derek didn’t have to listen to them—and the first year he was guilty of that for the most part.

Fuck he wished he stayed in Beacon Hills.

“I get it Jackson. Can we just not talk about this? Stiles hasn’t shown up to school in a week and—no, I’m not talking about this. I’m not!” she huffed, her chest rising heavily as to forced herself to move past her train of thoughts. She tucked another strand of hair behind her ear before focusing back to the blonde on the computer.

“I still love you Lyds.”

Her lips pulled up in a small smile as her heart thumbed loudly in her ears, “I miss you.”

-

Eventually John caught up to his son. He found him at Derek’s loft, and forced the kid to get dressed and in his Jeep. He followed the blue vehicle, his hands at ten and two, white knuckling it. Stiles had come to the door in one of the man’s shirts—obviously sleeping briefly. If the bags under the teenager’s eyes spoke for anything.

Even when he rushed his kid out the door Stiles had grabbed a leather jacket—Stiles didn’t own anything leather. John sighed; he wished that he could do more. He should see about getting a few of his nights covered so he could insure that Stiles would eat and sleep in his own bed. Maybe even hang out with his friends again.

Friends who were supernatural beings.

Yeah, he had that talk with Scott (and Mr. Argent as well), and only those two would be able to dive into the world of the supernatural. Only his fucking son.

-

Stiles was late to his first period class, but he had no choice to go. Not when his father walked him to the front desk and checked him in himself. And not only did the embarrassment not end there, it followed him to class where his father all but shoved him through the door (after taking his car keys, promising that he’ll return them before his last period was over). Ms. Blake turned towards him, and he couldn’t help but wince.

Before him, Jennifer Blake was romantically involved with Derek—a source of his constant frustration. He would admit that he was jealous of the woman. No shame in it really, Derek was allowed to date. Especially after what happened with Kate—Derek could’ve had tons of romances, one night stands, or whatever. He still chose Stiles after all that, and he was happy about that fact.

Even though he still couldn’t look the woman in the eye without winching. He was the one that through himself on the man even knowing that he was sleeping with one of his teachers—he didn’t care. He wanted him… needed to finally just lose himself with the Alpha.

But now he couldn’t have the man either.

“Stiles, glad to see that you’ve decided to grace us with your presence,” she spoke taking the note from him and waving him towards his desk. Her eyes lingering on the leather jacket, that’s right he grabbed one of his jackets before leaving.

His classmates couldn’t stop staring at him as he passed them. He felt even more like a freak.

Maybe he should move away—start new.

No, he couldn’t do that. His Dad’s life was here; he couldn’t just up and go. Forcing him to drop his job, sell the house. All because some kids couldn’t keep their eyes in their skull. Plus, he was going to bring Derek back—he had to stay.

He was going to bring him back.

Eventually.

After he killed those bastards.

Stiles sat down in his seat, sighing loudly when he noticed that quiet of few of his classmates still looked at him. Did they know? Or did they just assume that he’d lost his mind and dropped off the face of the Earth for little over a week? He could work with that latter—he could rock the crazy. Hell, he felt crazy right now. He was planning on killing an unnumbered amount of people and bring his boyfriend back from the dead.

He was going to bring Derek back.

He was going to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually enjoyed writing the Lydia/Jackson scene, so be ready for some more skype moments between them. And just so you know the mind frame that I was in while writing that was "Write love, but the love that one thinks is weakness. And the other isn't bothering to hide from anything anymore." So if you need to go back an read that to get it, then I really don't mind.
> 
> And please don't kill me for the OC. She will not steal 'the Stiles show', nor will New York be mentioned unless you would like memories.
> 
> And can you catch all the characters own way at dealing with mourning/grief? Stiles bounces around but he focuses on one main one though. And Scott and Allison will be in the next chapter- and Isaac. 
> 
> And more of the Hale family will be introduced. Don't you worry my dears.


End file.
